Aftermath
by ItsOnMars
Summary: The war left no one the same. Twenty chapters, twenty one-shots, twenty lives changed.
1. Dennis Creevey

**A Familiar Feeling**

**Street Fighting Man**

**Dennis Creevey**

**OOO**

Dennis Creevey had never been a fighter, or a photographer, or a leader. He hadn't been anything, really, now that he looked back, other than someone who desperately wanted to be someone but wasn't sure where to start. He had gained fame among the students in his year on the boat ride to Hogwarts, when he fell into the lake, but all of that fame was quickly lost once people got to know Dennis. The only thing that they bothered learning about him was that he was muggleborn and overly excited about everything. What they didn't bother learning about him was that the only reason Dennis was excited about everything was because he didn't know what he wanted to be excited about in life. So he just became excited about everything instead.

First year was gone, and so was Cedric Diggory. The minute that Dennis heard the news of the boy's death, he experienced a familiar feeling. It was one where it felt like his stomach had plummeted and a group of flies had invaded his mind, buzzing everywhere and not making any sense. It was a feeling where Dennis couldn't move, not even if he tried very hard, because his brain was busy adjusting to the news. It was a feeling not too different to the one he had gotten when he had found out his brother was petrified, lying perfectly still in a hospital bed, kilometers away from home. Dennis hadn't realized it at the time, but it was the feeling that only came when he himself was changing, slowly realizing that the wizarding world wasn't as exciting and lively and happy as Colin had promised him it was. It wasn't only full of happy, orange spells that could make you laugh uncontrollably, or beautiful creatures that had only existed in Dennis's bedtime stories, or good always triumphing over evil, no matter what. It was also a world that was full of bright green spells that created a dreadful silence, and large eyes with the potential to leave their victim dead on the spot, and teachers that weren't really teachers, but were escaped convicts that wouldn't hesitate to murder an innocent boy and destroy all good in the world.

The strange feeling had become a regular thing. It plagued Dennis when he left a session of detention with the words "I will not disobey a pureblood" written into his hand. It returned when he left his first DA meeting, Harry's words echoing in his mind. It came back stronger than ever when he read the Quibbler headline: "The Second Wizarding War Begins".

The feeling became permanent in what would have been the end of Dennis's fourth year. He had spent many months hiding in his grandparents' house, on the outskirts of London. Collin had left a few days ago, claiming that it was time that he fought in the war. Dennis had stayed behind, following his parents' strict orders to not get involved in this horrible, bloody war. Dennis wasn't a fighter, after all. He had once imagined himself one, though, back in his second year, when he would sneak out of Hogwarts to venture to Hogsmeade, his blood fired with passion and his wand ready to defend the wizarding world with his newly learned spells. That passion and energy was long gone, though. Because although May 2nd, 1998 may have been the time to fight, Dennis Creevey was not a fighter. He was just a boy who might have once fancied himself a great fighter. Those delusions were gone now, though; he knew that the war was finished, Collin was dead, and Dennis would still never know what he wanted to be in life.

Dennis abandoned the wizarding world. The people in it were too beaten down and broken from the war, and were too passionate about their liberty and battle scars. Dennis didn't have any battle scars, not any visible ones at least. He wasn't like the other wizards; he wasn't an ex-Hogwarts student turned Auror to help prevent another war, he wasn't a wizard who became a Healer because of the impact the war had on them, and he wasn't someone who turned into a teacher at Hogwarts because he wanted to teach the new generations to protect themselves. He was a seventeen-year-old boy who had lost his brother because of the wizarding world. He was a seventeen-year-old boy who was now going to leave behind the wizarding world because it held nothing for him besides lost dreams and dead family.

Dennis hadn't ever wanted to fight, hadn't ever wanted to be a strong wizard with bravery filling his mind. He hadn't ever wanted to join the thousands of wizards and witches his age that lined the streets of London, wands hidden as they prepared to go to fight. Dennis was ready to find a nice and quiet life on the outskirts of London in a sleepy muggle town, where he would just be free to play his music quietly in peace while rain quietly pattered on his windows. Dennis was looking for a life where he could burn his photos of the wizarding world, forgetting the days when he had wanted to be a street fighting man.

**OOO**

**So that was the first chapter of ****Aftermath****! I hope you enjoyed it, because I've already written the second chapter and would love it if you read that as well. If you liked the story, please leave a review. If you didn't like it, I'd appreciate criticism as well. If you were indifferent, than you can express your thoughts with a well-worded "meh" in the review section. Or, if you're daring, you can even capitalize the word an add punctuation as though it were a real sentence, like so: "Meh.". It's pointless, of course, but reviews tend to bring me joy and happiness and sunshine and rainbows and unicorns. But then Voldemort sucks the blood out of the unicorns, so I don't have those anymore. **

** Anyway, I'll just briefly explain the idea behind this story before I ramble too much. This was written for a challenge where I am given an album and turn it into a story. My album was Forty Licks, by the Rolling Stones, the most amazing band in the universe. The first song in the first disc was "Street Fighting Man", which was the inspiration for this chapter. The next song is "Gimme Shelter", one of my favorites, and inspired the next chapter. Basically, every chapter will be inspired by the according song. Now, don't think that this will be a story where every line is copied, with some Harry Potter things added in. It also won't be some story where I add the lyrics in italics and have little to no story line. Instead, I will have twenty (or possibly forty) one-shots, each focusing on a specific character after the war. The character, song title, and chapter title will be written at the start of the chapter, and at the end I'll announce the next chapter's song. As I said before, the next chapter is written after "Gimme Shelter". If you're interested, you can just type "Forty Licks" into Wikipedia and you'll get the track listing. **

** I recommend listening to the songs, because although you'll most definitely get the one-shots without listening to the songs, it would probably help. In general, these songs are great, so they would be nice to listen to even without reading the chapters.**

** Anyway, before I go on for too long, I'll just say that I hope you enjoyed this one-shot, and to look out for my next chapter, because that will be coming up quite soon.**

**Sincerely,**

_**ItsOnMars **_**:)**


	2. Hermione Granger

**Safety**

**Gimme Shelter**

**Hermione Granger**

**OOO**

Hermione couldn't pinpoint a moment when she realized the whole impact the war had on her life. She would look back sometimes and wonder when things started to go so wrong, started to get so tangled and horrifying, and above all she would wonder when she herself became so desperate for an escape from it all. She would be reading a book at home, late in the night when it was quiet and she was having trouble sleeping. She would pause before beginning a new chapter, and suddenly she was reeling from the horror of it all. Unwanted images of the dead would spring up before her eyes, filling her as she would begin to shake, remembering all of those innocent and young people who would never move, never speak, never breath again. Dumbledore was gone, Fred was gone, Remus was gone, Snape was gone, and for Merlin's sakes even Colin was gone, little Colin Creevey with his hopes and dreams and it was all too horrible to even bear. Hermione would shakily lower her book down onto the worn yet clean coffee table, and would quickly run out of the room without thinking. She would dash up the stairs, sobs being wrenched out of her throat, leaving behind a painful feeling of guilt and sorrow and horror, feelings much to horrible to consider, not now, not when the war was over and had been over for the past nine years.

The only thing that kept Hermione sane during those horrible moments was when she finally reached the top of the stairs and would run into the first room she saw, hurriedly opening the door while suddenly becoming as quiet as she possibly could, holding back the heart wrenching sobs that had been consuming her a minute before. As soon as the door slowly creaked open, Hermione would tiptoe inside, heading straight for the crib placed near the wall opposite the door. She would lean over it, and for a second her face would be illuminated by a smile. It filled her, and would stay on her face before Hermione would slowly bring her hand up to dry off the tears that had been coursing down her face. It was useless, though. No matter how hard she smiled, the tears would still keep streaming down her face. Hermione didn't know at this point whether those were tears of sadness or tears of happiness, but she suspected they were both. After all, no matter how horrible the war had been, and no matter how much blood had been spilt and how many lives had been destroyed, life went on. The world hadn't ended on May 2nd, 1998. It hadn't ended when the Daily Prophet had printed the pages and pages of deaths, and it hadn't ended when Hermione got her first war nightmare on May 5th, 1998. In fact, sometimes Hermione felt like the world was just starting. She felt like that when she held first held Rose in her arms at St. Mungo's, a small crying baby with thin red hair and light brown eyes who stopped crying when she looked up into her mother's adoring eyes.

Standing in Rose's room always calmed Hermione down, always made her forget about the war, just for a few moments at least. She would just stand there, looking over into the baby's crib. Rose would be sleeping, calmly breathing in and out, her stuffed lion firmly tucked into her arm. Hermione would gently smile down at her, the tears slowly drying on her face. She would then slowly walk out the door, a peaceful look on her face as she closed the door and headed towards her room right next to Rose's, and cast a fond look towards Ron, who was busy snoring in their bed, a wide smile on his face. Hermione's smile deepened as she climbed in the bed, pulling the blanket around herself as she closed her eyes. It all went to show, she supposed, how silly her fears had been if simply staring into a crib could calm them. After all, there wasn't any reason to still have nightmares about the war and the dead when she was surrounded by so much life, and so much love surrounded her home. So instead of twisting and turning like she usually did, Hermione fell into a calm sleep for the first time that month. She had shelter now. She was safe.

**OOO**

**So that's the end of the second chapter! I hope you liked it, because I have lots more of these one-shots coming. Up next is a chapter based on the song "Satisfaction", which is actually one of my favorite songs by the Rolling Stones. I have to say, though, I love the song "Gimme Shelter", and it's most definitely in my top three. Please review if you have the time, and I'll see you next time…**

**Sincerely,**

_**ItsOnMars**_


	3. Draco Malfoy

**Cowardice**

**(I Can't Get No) Satisfation**

**Draco Malfoy**

**OOO**

Draco Malfoy loved taking walks, truth be told. Now that his days were filled with a screaming blonde baby and a stressed wife, walks were the perfect way to relax. Well, they would have been perfect if Draco covered his eyes with a blindfold every time he left the house. The streets were lined with moving posters that advertised the newest bestseller, "Harry Potter: A Hero Among Us", the cover of the biography showing only the green eyes and scar that the wizarding world had become so familiar with over the past twenty-six years. Draco scoffed, trying his best to ignore the eyes that had so often been directed towards him in hatred. People these days were always trying to advertise Scarhead as much as possible. It was as if they thought he needed any more attention than he already got. For Merlin's sake, every Daily Prophet held at least one article talking about one of the members of the former Golden Trio, and every month or so another biography about Harry Potter was released and instantly became a bestseller. You would think that people would grow tired of hearing about the brainless wonder. Apparently, they didn't.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Maybe all the stress of a three-month-old son and his extra hours at work were getting to him. Scorpius had apparently started teething, and his screams were getting louder and louder as the days went by. Astoria had been worried, because apparently all Greengrass babies were calm and kept quiet. It had taken Draco several weeks of talking and arguing to convince her that Scorpius Hyperion was as much as a Malfoy as they came, and being a Malfoy meant being attention-seeking and obnoxious. Draco had then gone on to explain that this screaming was actually a big step forward for little Scorpius. It showed that he was now ready to become a real Malfoy, screaming and attention-seeking habits and all. Astoria had not been amused.

Thinking about Scorpius and Astoria's inability to take a joke suddenly made Draco remember a scene that had happened in the first few months of Astoria's pregnancy. She had been worrying over baby names, because the naming of a pureblood child was a very big deal and nine months, apparently, was simply not enough time to come up with a good enough name for her beloved child. One of the few suggestions Draco had had was to name the child Tom Marvallo, in hopes that he grow up to be like his namesake. Astoria had looked at Draco with horror-stricken eyes, and had then had rushed over to the floo, in vain trying to contact Narcissa to tell her that Draco was having war flashbacks again. It took Draco several minutes to calm her down and assure her that he had only been joking, because Merlin knew that Tom was a rather common name, and although it might be fine for a Greengrass, it was nothing fit for a Malfoy. Draco had slept on the couch that night.

The reason that Draco had suggested the name Tom was because that day he had been in a rather rotten mood. Astoria had bought a baby-name book, in hopes that one of the names would stick out and inspire her enough. Draco had been absentmindedly flipping through the book when he had chanced upon a page that listed the top boy names over the past three years. Of course, they were none other than Harry, Ron, and, strangely enough, Ethelfried. Draco had shaken his head at the two names after staring at the last name for a bit longer. Of course, it made sense that the two would become immensely popular. And what had they done to deserve it? Sure, they had helped save the wizarding world, but the war and adulthood hadn't quite gotten rid of the spoiled brat side of Draco that wanted everything Potter and Weasley associated to fall off of the face of the earth.

The war had changed Draco, though; there was no lying about that. He had spent practically all of 1999 cooped up in Malfoy Mansion, hiding under his covers like a small child whenever he had nightmares, which was often. It turned out that sleeping in the house where you had suffered with your family for years wasn't the best idea. The next year, Draco bought a nice large house several minutes away from Diagon Alley. The second that Draco stepped out of his house to venture to the real world, he had been stopped by many war veterans and was yelled at for hours. That was when Draco learned that he had become one of the faces of evil, what people thought of when they thought of pathetic and evil wizards. Draco's year away from humanity had only helped convince the world that he was a coward, and if there was one thing Draco hated, it was being called a coward. He had promptly started looking for a job. No one had bothered even giving him an interview, and it had taken six months before Draco realized that the only thing he could see himself being was an Auror. Of course, it had taken one and a half years to convince the Auror department that he was a suitable man for the job, but they had finally let him join them in their fight to keep the world safe.

Draco quickly became one of the top Aurors, not that anyone else willingly admitted to it. With his newfound success, Draco had decided to enter the dating scene and then quickly found another dilemma in life. There were no suitable and single pureblood women that wanted to date him. So, he had grudgingly gotten rid of his old image as a playboy and strove to become a charming pureblood gentlemen. Now, being charming wasn't hard, but nowadays less and less girls were falling for his charms. It was by luck, then, when he found Astoria Greengrass with her secret wishes for a prince to sweep her off her feet. Draco had found her charming and beautiful, and after realizing that he genuinely liked her presence, he asked to court him. She laughed in his face and then promptly accepted his proposition.

And now, here he was, sitting in a café, ignoring the Witches Weekly that had been left on his table by the previous customer, the headline reading "How to pull off the Hermione Granger look", because honestly, he didn't understand why anyone would want to look like a frumpy bookworm. Here he was, calmly ordering and refraining from making snobbish comments when the waitress checked him out, because honestly, he couldn't blame her. Here he was, realizing that it had taken a war to change Draco Malfoy from a whiny and cowardly teenager into a snarky and calm adult. Here he was, finally satisfied.

**OOO**

**HOORAY! DRACO! So, this chapter's different from the other two, I suppose, in that it's not as serious, but "Satisfaction" is just so much more upbeat than "Gimme Shelter", and it was fun writing Draco this way, so… *shrug* that's the chapter. I'm trying to keep everything canon, though, so I'm including Astoria and Scorpius, just like I included Ron and Rose in the last chapter (Hugo hadn't been born yet). **

**I hope you liked this chapter, though! I'd also like to thank my wonderful reviewers, keeptheotherone and Luciana Ferreira, for helping me be motivated to update quickly. The next song, by the way, is called The Last One. I don't really know it, so the chapter might take a while to get up, especially because I might be going to my grandma's place this weekend, but I'll try my hardest.**

**Until next time,**

_**ItsOnMars**_


	4. George Weasley

**Nightmares **

**The Last Time**

**George Weasley**

**OOO**

George sighed for what seemed to be the tenth time that hour. It was quite late, but he hadn't been able to sleep, instead staring at the girl fitfully sleeping next to him. Angelina usually slept well, but there were some days when she would take several hours to finally fall asleep, only to toss and turn all night, mumbling incomprehensible words to herself as George sadly looked on.

The two weren't living to each other, though. No, George was renting a small flat near his joke shop, while Angelina was rooming with Katie Bell in their flat in Diagon Alley. George hadn't actually heard from Angelina in several months when he found her standing outside of the joke shop when he was already closing up, looking through the windows with a bitter smile on her face. George had waved to her, snickering when she started and gave him a guilty wave back, looking surprised that she had been caught staring. George had then walked over, and after they had exchanged the usual pleasantries, he had curiously asked her what she had been doing since the war. She had shrugged, and replied with a "nothing, really". Angelina had then nodded towards the joke shop and asked George how the business was going. He had truthfully replied that things weren't going too well, not since Fred had died. Angelina had looked horrified that the remaining twin had mentioned his dead brother's name, and George had only replied with a sad little laugh. Fred wouldn't have wanted to have everyone avoid his name nervously, George explained. In fact, he continued, Fred would have thought it was quite pathetic, how everyone was carrying on and trying to pretend that the boy had never existed. Angelina had only shaken her head, blinking quickly in hopes that George wouldn't notice the tears that had filled her eyes when she heard the name of her dead boyfriend spoken. George had just begun voicing a comforting comment when Angelina muttered a hurried and watery goodbye before running away quickly. George had just shaken his head before apparating home, wondering if it was a coincidence that this had all happened on April 1st, 1999, the day that Fred would have turned 21 years old.

The weeks went by, and each evening George would find Angelina standing outside of his shop, waiting so that they could have a walk and catch up on everything that had happened after the war. George noticed that Angelina would never come into the store, but he never brought it up in their conversations. If she didn't want to come in his store, it wasn't any of his business.

May 2nd, 1999, was a horrible day for George. He had a long day at work, as most of the wizarding world was at home, mourning for the lost ones, or at pubs, celebrating the victory that had taken place exactly one year ago. George, however, was stuck in the store, although he contemplated apparating home several times that day. The only reason he stuck around, truth be told, was because he wanted to see Angelina. She had a strange way of comforting him just by being around, even when she was staring into space, obviously thinking of Fred and not fully conscious of where she was. It was easy, then, to imagine George's confusion and disappointment when the evening came and there was no Angelina Johnson standing outside of his store. He had waited around for ten minutes before apparating home, upset yet understanding that the girl was probably in her flat, mourning her loved ones.

The clock had struck eleven when George heard the distinct 'pop' that only came with apparation. He had rushed into his living room to see a hysterical Angelina huddled on the floor, tears falling down her face as she sobbed loudly. He had rushed forward to hold her, getting her to stand up and bringing her over to his couch. It had taken half an hour before she could speak, and the only words he got out of her were "Fred", "been one year", and "please, George, I'm begging you". It had taken yet another half hour before she finally calmed down, and asked him if she could stay over. She told him that she would sleep on the couch if he wanted, or even the floor, but Katie had gone to visit her parents that night, and Angelina couldn't bear to be alone on the one-year war anniversary. George had let her stay, of course, and had even offered to let her sleep in his bed while he slept on the couch. She had refused, naturally, and had ended up sleeping on the couch. By two in the morning, though, she had begun to cry in her sleep, and George had gently woken her up and told her to sleep next to him. And for what seemed to be like the first time in his life, George slept next to a girl that he had fancied for weeks and kept his hands to himself.

It became their new ritual. George no longer expected Angelina in the evenings when he exited his joke shop. Instead, he would go home and wait until about eleven o'clock, when he heard the 'pop' that meant Angelina had come by. She would spend the night in his place, and George would just watch as she slept, noticing that her nightmares became less and less frequent as the days went by.

It all lead up to this day, George supposed. To November 2nd, 1998, marking the fifth month that Angelina spent the night with him. He hoped that he would work up the nerve to make it the last. George knew that things couldn't keep going like this, he couldn't keep letting her sneak over to his flat and sleep there when he was pretty sure that he was falling in love with the girl. No, George knew that he was in love with Angelina, but she hadn't the faintest idea. So, she still came over and slept next to him, oblivious to the fact that he was pining after her when he knew that she would run away if she found out the truth. So George had decided to make this night the last time that she stayed, the last time that he went to sleep next to the woman he loved and woke up with only a warm bed as proof that she had actually slept there.

George continued staring at Angelina, quietly sighing again for what was most surely the eleventh time that hour. He reached his hand out, ready to wake her up, when he heard her mumble another word to herself. "George". And immediately after, a smile filled her face, and her nightmare seemed to stop as she smiled and moved closer to him.

George pulled his arm back, a fond smile on his face as he pulled up his blanket. Things could wait. After all, there would always be another time to break the news. And before that happened, George planned on enjoying his time with Angelina as much as possible.

**OOO**

**So… that's the chapter! I'm actually not fond of this one at all, which is one of the reasons that I didn't get this chapter up that quickly. The other reasons are that I was at my grandma's place and that this is the first song on the album so far that I hadn't heard before I wrote the one-shot, so… *shrug*. **

**I apologize for my lateness and also if you share your feelings with me on the quality of this chapter. Anyway, I'll try to get the next chapter up as quickly as possible. The song will be "Jumping Jack Flash", so get excited! Or not, I don't know if any of you like the song as much as I do.**

**Before I stop rambling, I'd like to mention that I got a FictionPress account yesterday, and although I haven't written anything yet, I have some ideas, so if you're interested, you can check my profile out by clicking on the link in my profile.**

**Thanks for reading, and please review! I'd also like to specially thank my amazing reviewers, keeptheotherone and L. Ferreira. You guys are wonderful!**

**Until next time.**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	5. Lucius Malfoy

**Normality **

**Lucius Malfoy**

**Jumpin' Jack Flash**

**OOO**

Normal was not a word that came to mind when one thought of Lucius Malfoy, and he was quite aware of the fact. After all, not most people had a father like Abraxas Malfoy, who had been the most faithful of the original Death Eaters and would see it as a disgrace if his son didn't inherit the pureblood mania from his father; however, Abraxas had no need to be worried. It wasn't like Lucius was about to go frolicking with mudblood scum any time soon. No, Lucius would admit to inheriting the absolute hatred of all that were inferior to him, and didn't see anything wrong with it. It wasn't like he went around killing muggles everyday… most of the time, anyway.

As Lucius's life progressed, it seemed to only get stranger and stranger. He got to marry Narcissa Malfoy, the most sought out pureblood witch of their time. Now, he wasn't complaining, of course, it was the opposite in fact. It was quite nice to be married to an elegant and beautiful woman with a good understanding of how a pureblood wife should behave; however, after Narcissa came Draco, and that was when things started to get quite strange. Even from his youth, Draco had been like his father in every respect: muggle-hating, Slytherin-bound, a sneering pureblood with the signature Malfoy hair. Lucius had been quite proud, because after all, who wouldn't want their son to be a replica of Lucius Malfoy? Fools, that's who.

Lucius knew for sure his life was different from most of them when he became involved with the Potter brat. From the minute they met, the child had been an insufferable idiot, managing not only to save Hogwarts, the giant, and that fool of a Headmaster, but also to push Lucius's reputation on the way to ruin. Oh, and Potter had lost Lucius his elf. What a spiteful thing to do.

As the years went by, Lucius's life only got more and more confusing. The Dark Lord came back, and his life was shot into turmoil. Now, Lucius was quite aware of the horror and exhaustion that happened in Draco's seventh year, when Malfoy Manor, the beautiful and royal Malfoy Manor, became the home to the Dark Lord and the other Death Eaters. Most of all, he remembered the way it affected his wife and son. Narcissa had gone into withdrawal, only speaking a few words a day, if any. Draco had become resentful and terrified, and Lucius knew that his son entertained thoughts of fleeing and joining the enemy side; however, he knew that Draco would never leave his family behind. Malfoys had a cowardly streak, after all, and it was cowardice that prevented Draco from turning his back on the Dark Lord. Lucius, on the other hand, never dared to have those thoughts. He simply kept his head up high, sneered at his sister-in-law, that bloody Bellatrix Black, and obeyed the Dark Lord like a small dog obeyed its master.

When Lucius looked back on the Second Wizarding War, he remembered the beginning of it the best. In 1996, it hadn't been nearly as bad as the later years. Lucius felt younger, running around killing the enemy, as strange as that may sound. He was no longer a responsible father, set to live a life of boredom and sucking up to the ministry. No, now he had another direction. Within a few years, he would be the most beloved Death Eater of the Dark Lord, given all sorts of advantages when he won the war. Narcissa and Draco would see that he, Lucius Malfoy, was a good father and husband with the best interests of his family in mind. They would all see one day. Wouldn't they?

But the war had finished, and the Dark Lord had been defeated. Years had past, and Lucius was an old man, lying on his deathbed. Narcissa and Draco were sitting on a couch, alternating between yawning, quietly speaking to each other, and shooting Lucius worried looks. Scorpius was sitting next to Astoria on the other side of the room, the both of them sleeping soundly. Scorpius was getting big now, and he was already in his second year at Hogwarts, as proud a Slytherin as his father and grandfather had been. And great-grandfather. And the one before that. But it didn't matter to Lucius how many Malfoys had been in Slytherin, not when he was lying here and thinking of his family and his life. It hadn't been a bad life, now that Lucius thought about it. And as Lucius Malfoy, the once-pride of Slytherin and the Malfoy family, took his final breaths, he reflected that his life had been quite alright.

**OOO**

**That's right, everyone. LUCIUS IS DEAD! The horror. I felt bad killing Lucius off, but I felt like I wanted this one-shot to end like the song it's based on, in which we assume the character dies, so…**

**That's the quite short chapter 5, I guess.**

**I hope you liked it! I actually wrote most of this yesterday, and I would have finished it but I was suddenly struck by ideas and wrote down the beginnings of a crack fic/ parody on Veela fics, which I'm going to post soon. I'd appreciate it if you reviewed this chapter, and maybe even took a look at the story on my profile that shall be called "Mating Season". Ooh, I also wrote another one-shot called "Unexpected".**

**But enough self-advertizing.**

**I'd like to thank my amazing and wonderful reviewer "keeptheotherone" for being so amazing and wonderful in reviewing. I'd also like to ignore the redundancy of that last statement.**

**Oh, by the way, the next song is "You Can't Always Get What You Want", which should be interesting and up by the end of the week.**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**

**Ps: I listened to my new favorite Rolling Stones song, "Happy", all of yesterday. It's sung by Keith Richards. I ended up having part of my dream have Keith Richards going to my school because he was my dad's friend, apparently (?), and teaching me about painting and math. I've got to stop listening to music before I fall asleep…**

**That is all.**


	6. Neville Longbottom

**Unfairness**

**Neville Longbottom**

**You Can't Always Get What You Want**

**OOO**

Neville had always taken it for granted that life was unfair. And it made sense that he thought that, really. For Merlin's sake, his parents didn't remember that they even had a son, he grew up thinking he was a freak or a Squib or something else that would cause him to be rejected by society, and his last name was Longbottom. Honestly, _Longbottom_.

Neville had been scorned for as long as he could remember. First by his family, who viewed him as a failure. Then, by his classmates, who viewed him as a fat and stupid failure. The taunts never seemed to end, and they weren't just from the Slytherins. The Gryffindors had told him their fair share of insults as well. But that didn't mean that Neville would hold it against them. He had long ago learned that you just had to ignore the insults. It wouldn't make them go away, but it helped.

He had thought the war would end the unfairness. As if somehow, killing Voldemort would bring his parents to normal, a state Neville had never seen them in. As if somehow, defeating the dark side would make the taunts stop, would make him a great wizard, the type who never, _never_ blew up a potions cauldron; however, the war didn't do that. Winning a war wasn't the same as restoring his parents' sanity, and it most certainly wasn't the same as completely erasing years and years of hardships that Neville had endured.

Winning the war had helped Neville, though. People were starting to view him as a hero. Him, Neville Longbottom, the loser of Gryffindor house! And although that didn't erase his harsh memories, it added a happier twist to them. The war didn't restore his parents to normal, but it wiped out the witch that turned Frank and Alice Longbottom into mere mindless vegetables. And as far as the last name Longbottom went, Neville could change them by taking a trip to the Ministry of Magic if he really wanted to.

But now that the war was over, and every memory had been relived at least three times, Neville came to the realization that he wouldn't get rid of his memories, or his name. Because Neville was proud to be a Longbottom, proud to be his parents' son. And he was definitely proud that he wasn't just Neville Longbottom, war hero. No, he was Neville Longbottom, survivor of bullying and taunting and scorn, the scared boy who grew into a confident Hogwarts professor. And although there were maybe some insults that Neville would like to forget, or some incidents that he didn't really benefit from, it wasn't so bad that they had happened. Just because he couldn't always get what he wanted, it wasn't the end of the world. If he tried sometimes, Neville Longbottom got what he needed, and that was alright with him.

**OOO**

**I know, I know. This one was short and late, even though I promised I would be quicker to update. I'm sorry about that one. My dad had a day off, so he was using the computer during the time I wanted to write for business and whatnot… Oh, also, I'm going to be leaving for two weeks on Saturday (yay!), which means that I won't be updating for a while. So I figured I should get this up as quickly as possible, which is why I'm updating right after finishing writing the chapter. The next song, by the way, will be "19****th**** Nervous Breakdown".**

**On a side note, you know what movies I've fallen in love with? About a Boy and Ferris Beuller's Day Off (even though I've always loved it…).**

**Also, I'd like to thank my fabulous reviewers, keeptheotherone and DragonWand. You guys are great!**

**Until next time.**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	7. Cho Chang

**Less Than Perfect**

**Cho Chang**

**19****th**** Nervous Breakdown**

**OOO**

Some days, Cho Chang swore she was on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. It wasn't her fault, though. In fact, it was a miracle that she hadn't had one already. With her circumstances, even a saint would be on their last nerves.

She knew that people called her spoiled and whiny behind her back, but she always ignored them. After all, being spoiled generally implied that your parents loved you, or at least were rich enough to substitute their love with presents. But growing up, Cho's parents hadn't been the most caring, or loving, or attentive, or anything really. In fact, there were days when Cho could swear that her parents didn't even remember her name. Her pampered pureblood mother was busy trying to alternate between her shopping addictions, a busy social life, and the debt she was slowly building up. Her eccentric muggle father was too busy trying to create all sorts of new and innovative inventions to notice that his only daughter, his only child was celebrating her birthday by sitting in her room, having a tea party that none of her parents had bothered to attend.

Cho had raised herself, and as she raised herself she realized that it would be impossible to go through life with low self esteem. So Cho began to love herself, and to make sure that she would never settle for anything or anyone less than perfect. Why should she, anyway? Cho Chang was close to perfect, wasn't she? She herself couldn't think of any faults in her personality or looks, so there was no reason to act like she herself was anything but perfect.

Cho had stopped loving herself the day she met Cedric Diggory. Cho had started hating herself the day Cedric Diggory died. She would look at herself in the mirror and see nothing but a crying fool who was ready to give up on life because of a boy. Because the most perfect boy she had ever met and ever would meet was gone, and would never come back, no matter how much Cho convinced herself that fifth year had just been a bad dream, and there she was, crying hysterically all over again.

No matter how hard Cho tried, the tears didn't stop. Sixth came and so did Harry Potter, and sixth year passed and Harry was gone, off lusting after Hermione Granger or Ginny Weasley or some other girl who was much stronger than Cho would ever be, some girl who had better things to do than cry and be enamoured of herself while hating herself at the same time.

And it seemed like the next few months, the next two years just passed in a dreamlike state. But this wasn't a pleasant dream, it was a nightmare. Family died, friends died, scars were formed; and although the physical ones healed over time, the mental and emotional scars would never really go away. No, they would always stay to haunt Cho, to remind her that life was far from perfect, that Cho was far from being some perfect princess living an enchanted life with her wonderful prince. The prince was dead, the perfect princess was an emotional and crying failure, and the enchanted life had been burnt to ashes the day that Cho found out what death and war really were. There would be no happy ending for Cho, and she knew that. So she tried to get away from it all, to get away from the sneering ex-friends who had now discovered that their old leader was little more than a self-hating and self-loving memory of the strong girl they had used to adore.

Cho ended up marrying a muggle, a nice, funny, charming and handsome man. He wasn't perfect, but Cho preferred it that way, anyway. It didn't matter that he swore like a sailor most of the time, or that he had ignored her for a week after he found out that she was magical, or that he almost accidentally dropped their daughter the first time he held her. None of it mattered, because Cho knew that she was actually happy with him, living in a loud household with her husband and four children, four happy magical children that were her pride and joy.

But if four lively children and one energetic husband weren't too much to handle, Cho didn't know what was. So she took a minute to sink down into the nearest couch and sigh. Cho closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, wondering how in the name of Merlin she hadn't had a nervous breakdown yet.

**OOO**

**So… I'm back! Actually, I got back a week or so ago, but I was at my grandma's house since then, which doesn't have internet. I was writing a lot, and now that I'm back home for a few days, I'll upload everything I wrote there and try to get as much stuff up as possible before I go back to her place. Sorry for the long wait!**

**Aside from that, I hope you guys like this chapter! It was originally hard to write, mostly because I generally try to like the characters that I write for and liking Cho Chang was something I never thought was possible. That might be why Cho's a little bit OOC… or maybe she's really OOC, I don't know. But I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review!**

**I'd like to thank the ever-amazing reviewers, keeptheotherone and L. Ferreira, and DragonWand. **

**Chapter 8's song is Under My Thumb, and will be uploaded tomorrow.**

**Until next time.**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :) **


	8. Oliver Wood

**Growing Soft**

**Oliver Wood**

**Under My Thumb**

**OOO**

Oliver Wood would like to assure people that he was not maniacal. Sure, he sometimes got a bit worked up over Quidditch, but it all paid off in the end. It wasn't easy, you know, having to be the captain of the Gryffindor team. For Merlin's sake, their seeker was one of the most accident prone wizards alive! And the beaters… well, having the Weasley twins on your team was a whole different problem, one that would only take a year or two of therapy to resolve.

But Oliver got them all into great shape. He was the captain, after all, when they won the cup in his seventh and last year. He was the captain that took a mismatched team of pranksters, chosen ones, and surprisingly feminist girls and turned it into a wonderful team that would not soon be forgotten. He, Oliver Wood, was capable of doing anything, of taking the wildest wizards and witches and turning them into brilliant Quidditch players. So if he could get them under his thumb, why wasn't he able to do the same with his six year old daughter? Perhaps he should start at the beginning of it all.

The war had finished, the deaths and fighting and horror were all long gone. It was all for good riddance, too. Oliver had had quite enough of carrying the dead bodies of his friends to where their families were waiting, loudly wailing and crying so hard it was a miracle they didn't flood all of England. He had had enough of being shoved into adulthood, not young adulthood, where everything was nice and easy, but real adulthood, where people actually looked to you for instructions about something other than Quidditch, and your only response was to bark out commands that would save lives and end even more.

So Oliver was quite glad that the war was finished, because war had a way of sapping out all the fun in life and replacing it with painful scars. People were surprised, though, when he started playing for Puddlemere again a week after the Final Battle. The rest of the wizarding world was healing, slowly healing and trying to forget the past few years, while Oliver was flying around on his broomstick and practicing in the pouring rain, not caring how drenched he got, as long as he didn't let a single goal through. People called him crazy, thought that maybe Quidditch was his way of healing. They might have been right, they might have been wrong, but Oliver didn't really bother finding out. All he knew was that he liked playing Quidditch. It made him feel like he actually mattered, like all of those years training at Hogwarts hadn't landed him at a dead-end job behind a desk, where the closest times he got to a Quidditch match were the moments where he relived his schooldays. No, Oliver was sticking to Quidditch, because there was no reason he shouldn't. He was good at it, wasn't he? There was no reason that he shouldn't play. It didn't matter that a week ago he had been desperately running around Hogwarts, fighting Death Eaters and crying over the bodies of his friends. The war was over, and his life could start again.

A year or so later, he was engaged. Lee Jordan had introduced him to a girl who, strangely enough, thought that Oliver's Keeper skills left much to be desired. So they had started playing Quidditch games together on the weekends. The Quidditch games turned into dates, somehow, and soon enough Oliver had a ring in his pocket and was kneeling to the only woman he would ever love, trying to muster up the courage to ask her to be his wife.

Eight years later, and his daughter was celebrating her sixth birthday. Oliver had bought her a new broom, one that flew a whole foot higher than her last one. Michelle had smiled and clapped and hugged her father, thanking him several times before turning to her next present. He had watched on and smiled, thinking of how he would spend the next afternoon teaching her Quidditch. The last broom had just been for getting used to flying, but this time, Oliver was going to make sure his only child learned how to play Quidditch like a professional before she got to Hogwarts.

It was much to his surprise, then, when Michelle asked that they practice another day. She had gotten a few books for presents, and she couldn't wait to read them. Oliver had agreed, and then approached her the next morning during breakfast, asking if she wanted to learn how to play Quidditch. She had turned to him and patted him on the head, saying only:

"I don't want to learn how to play Quidditch. It looks silly. I want to read instead."

It had taken an hour for Oliver to recover his ability to speak.

Now, Oliver Wood would like to assure everyone that he wasn't growing soft. Any one of his old teammates from Hogwarts knew that if Oliver's only daughter had told him that Quidditch was silly, he would have promptly spent the next week drilling her in all sorts of difficult Quidditch maneuvers, just to make sure she never uttered that sentence again. So his teammates would have been surprised, and most likely amused to know that Oliver didn't bring up Quidditch for the next four months. He instead bought his daughter more books, smiling every time her face lit up in delight upon seeing a new book. His wife had called him a softy, laughing as his face turned bright red and as he sputtered in indignation. It wasn't true, though. Oliver wasn't growing soft, no matter what other people may say.

It wasn't his fault his daughter had him under her thumb.

Well, for the most part, anyway.

**OOO**

**And that's Chapter Eight! I'm writing this on July 19****th****, and in a few hours I'll be watching The Deathly Hallows! *overly excited squeal***

**Anyway, this probably won't be posted for a couple of days, seeing as I don't have access to the internet right now, so sorry for the long wait.**

**The next song is "Not Fade Away". I'm not really **_**that**_** familiar with it, but I looked it up and have my ideas. So that shouldn't take too long to update- expect an update by Friday. **

**Thanks for reviewing: keeptheotherone, My Dear Professor McGonagall, and L. Ferreira. You guys are great!**

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

_**ItsOnMars**_** :) **


	9. Fleur Delacour

**Full Of Firsts**

**Not Fade Away**

**Fleur Delacour**

**OOO**

If Fleur had a problem with something, she would come right out and say it. That was it. There were no subtle hints of her displeasure, no words held back for fear of sounding too bold. If she wanted to let her thoughts be known, they would most certainly be heard. So it wasn't too out of character for her to go strolling up to Bill one day in Gringotts and ask for private English lessons, all the while looking him over with a gleam in her eyes.

It did come as a surprise, though, when Fleur realized she had met someone just as headstrong as she was. Yes, Bill had eagerly agreed to give her lessons, but this was the first person- the first male, rather, other than her father of course- who acted normally around her. And then she found out that it was strangely pleasant, being asked to dinner by a man who had plans other than just staring at her face and body all night long. No, Bill Weasley had most certainly come as a surprise.

Another surprise was his family. Fleur had known that her now fiancée had a large family with many brothers. When she had first heard this, she had been quite sad. After all, it would have been much more fun spending time around girls, right? Apparently not.

Fleur wasn't blind, or deaf for that matter. She knew that her soon-to-be mother-in-law despised her. And Ginevra hated her too. That girl was always calling Fleur "Phlegm" when she thought Fleur wasn't listening. It was too bad that the Weasley women hadn't done their research and found out that Veelas had better hearing than normal witches. But Fleur never let the girl know that Fleur was well aware of the name-calling and rude comments; and that was another first for Fleur. It was the first time that Fleur hadn't spoken all of her thoughts out loud, embarrassing Molly and her daughter for being so hostile.

Fleur would lie awake at night sometimes, ignoring the uncomfortable bed and the loud snores coming from all over the small and full house. She would just stare at the ceiling, wondering why she ignored the comments instead of speaking up for herself, or complaining to Bill at the very least. And the answer came to her one night, so suddenly that she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before.

She wanted to be liked. She wanted her new family to accept her, for _all_ of them to accept her and like her and see her as something other than "Phlegm", or "Bill's fiancée", or "that quarter-Veela". But they didn't, not really; only Bill saw her for as she was. And it scared Fleur how much she wanted them to like her. After all, it wasn't like she followed the Weasley's around like a wounded puppy every time they ignored her. No, she kept on being the same old bold and snobbish Fleur Delacour she always been, while secretly hoping that one day she would wake up and would actually be loved by these people.

But love could be scary too; Fleur knew that quite well. She wasn't sure if it was normal, loving Bill as much as she did. It wasn't like anything her mother or grandmother had described. It wasn't as much her Veela side calling out to Bill as much as it was every part of Fleur telling her to never let that man go. Not a day went by where Fleur didn't take a minute to just think of Bill, to think how lucky she was to have him. And her love was a first, too. Bill Weasley was the only man she would ever love that much, who she would ever love at all, and that was new to her.

She didn't like to think of his scars. It wasn't because they were ugly, because they weren't. If anything, they made Bill even handsomer. They showed his strength, his loyalty, his passion for good. No, Fleur didn't like to think about them because thinking about her husband's scars made her remember his mother's horrible insults. It was as if Molly had thought that Fleur would up and leave Bill just because he had been attacked. She didn't understand that Fleur's love was real. It would never fade away, would never just disappear because of an attack.

If anything, Fleur's love increased exponentially because of the attacks. She now found herself loving more people than she had ever thought possible. She grew to love many of her friends, some of her in-laws, and most of all her children. When Victoire was born, anyone could tell by just looking into Fleur's eyes to understand the love the mother had for her child. And then came Dominique, and Louis, and Fleur found herself loving them even more every day.

So Fleur was quite happy now. She had three beautiful children who she adored, and a wonderful husband who she fell in love with again every time she saw him.

Take that, Molly Weasley.

**OOO**

**Sorry for the wait! I didn't know this song before-hand, and I had guests over for all of last week. I only got to write starting yesterday… And I kinda forgot to write yesterday… Whoops!**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! I honestly don't know how I feel about it. I hated it in the beginning, and then I liked it, and now I'm indifferent.**

**So anyway, there's chapter nine! We're almost 25% of the way there!**

**The next song is "Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing in the Shadow?"**

**I'm listening to it as I write this, because I'll start writing chapter 10 as soon as this one is posted. I already have chapters 11 and 12 planned out, so expect quick updates!**

**I'd like to thank keeptheotherone for reviewing the last chapter. You're awesome! No, really, you are.**

**Until next time! **

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	10. Narcissa Malfoy

**Treachery **

**Have You Seen Your Mother, Baby, Standing In The Shadow?**

**Narcissa Malfoy**

**OOO**

Sometimes Narcissa dreamt that she was standing in a large room, surrounded by her family. Every time she knew she was dreaming, because it was simply impossible that she should see the faces of people who had been dead for many long and dreadful years. Her father would cross his arms in anger, glaring at his daughter. Her mother would stand in the shadow, her eyes empty of emotion. Bellatrix would stand furthest from Narcissa, never coming forward. Narcissa would stare at her sister in sorrow, but she knew that Bella was too angry to speak to her. They were all too angry or upset or disappointed to speak to her. Each time Narcissa knew why; the Blacks did not look kindly on traitors. And there was no doubt in her mind that she, Narcissa Black, was a traitor.

Betraying the Dark Lord for the sake of her son was the most pathetic action Narcissa could remember committing. It was worse than the time that she cried in front of Draco when Lucius was sent to Azkaban. It was worse than the time she begged Lucius to not take the Dark Mark. That was because she regretted doing all of those things. She regretted disappointing Draco, she regretted disappointing Lucius; however, Narcissa would never regret helping the enemy side. After all, she wasn't a Death Eater herself. She was a mother, a helpless, concerned mother who was at her wit's end and would be fully prepared to kill herself if her son was murdered.

But in her dreams, her family didn't care. They didn't care that because of her, countless lives were saved, that because of her, the Malfoy line was continued, that because of her, Draco was alive. All they cared about was that the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was disgraced, forgotten, destroyed. After all, how could Narcissa be called a Black if she cared more about her family, more about the ones she loved than keeping up their good pureblood name?  
>Sometimes Narcissa found herself yelling at the phantoms in her dreams. She would swear at them, would swing her arms, spit at them, and forget the fact that she was a dignified witch. The rest would just stare at her blankly, not caring that they were being insulted. Why would they? It wasn't like they cared.<p>

Other times, Narcissa would just fall to the ground in front of her parents and Bella and cry, begging their forgiveness. She would sob out her excuses, choking on her tears and wondering why they couldn't just hug her or accept her apologies, or just do _something_. There was nothing worse than realizing for the seventh time that week that her family would label her an outcast if they were still alive.

Strangely enough, Andromeda never appeared in her dreams. The woman had died three years ago, a year before Lucius did, but never once did Narcissa see Andy in her dreams. Maybe it was because Narcissa had stopped considering her family in her youth. Maybe it was because Andy had forgiven her long ago. Maybe it didn't mean anything, and these dreams only appeared because every night before she fell asleep, Narcissa would think of her parents, her sisters, her grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and friends and everyone, just everyone who had died in that bloody war. Some had died of disease, some had died of ridiculous accidents, and some, the lucky and horribly unlucky ones, had died because of old age.

If one thing Narcissa was sure of, though, it was that she would die of a broken heart.

**OOO**

**And there's Chapter 10 of ****Aftermath****! We're 25% done with the story!**

**Yes, I know I said last time I would post quickly and then kinda sorta didn't, and I have a bad excuse! I couldn't think of anything to write for that song, and then the next day, I was told to go visit my grandma for a day. I ended up coming back home a week later than I expected. And Monday, the 8****th****, was my birthday! Hooray! **

**I realize this chapter doesn't really match the song. The song is happy, this chapter is not, and the only part that matched the song was the title (I referred to Narcissa's mother standing in the shadow). I apologize for that, but this was the only thing I could think of. Whoops.**

**Anyway, next chapter will be based on "Sympathy For The Devil", one of my favorites! I already have it planned out, and I will try and upload it in an hour.**

**Thanks to keeptheotherone and DragonWand for reviewing! You guys are great!**

**Until next time.**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	11. Dolores Umbridge

**Slander**

**Sympathy For The Devil**

**Dolores Umbridge**

**OOO**

Azkaban wasn't really nice this time of year. It was quite different from the posh lifestyle Dolores Umbridge was used to living, that was for sure. The Dementors were worse company than her Ministry friends, and the creatures weren't interested in her rants about those wretched mudbloods and muggles. No, they would rather suck out her soul.

At least it was reassuring to know that she still had a soul.

Alright, Dolores would admit to doing a few unpleasant things in her life. She might have been a bit harsh on her students, because some of them had been from very noble families. It wasn't very nice of her to yell at the purebloods because they had laughed at her when she accidentally stuttered.

And maybe she had been responsible for many people's deaths, and had caused them to be tortured. But those filthy mudbloods had deserved it, had they not? Of course they had. And it was their entire fault that she was sitting here, for the third month in a row, in a cold cell in Azkaban, concentrating on horrible thoughts just to keep the Dementors away.

The name Dolores Umbridge was infamous, now that the war had ended. Students of Hogwarts that had been lucky enough to have her were slandering her good name, not caring that she had once been the most powerful person at Hogwarts. Adults that had worked with her at school and the Ministry alike were pretending they had hated Dolores, leaving out the times they had complimented her methods and suggested new ideas of ways to catch mudbloods and muggles.

Some thought her crazy. Some thought her evil. Some went as far as to call her the devil.

And nobody had sympathy for the devil these days.

**OOO**

**And true to my word, here is Chapter 11 of ****Aftermath**** about an hour after the previous chapter! I'm a wonderful person! All of my sins have been forgiven!**

…**Right?**

**Sorry that this one was a bit short. I knew I wanted to have Umbridge be the character for this one, but this was all I could write. I like it, though, and I hope you will too. **

**The next song is "Mother's Little Helper". It's a great song, and I have it planned out, so expect an update either today or tomorrow.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**Until next time.**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	12. Minerva McGonagall

**Miracle Worker**

**Mother's Little Helper**

**Minerva McGonagall**

**OOO**

Merlin, getting old was such a drag. Minerva McGonagall was quite familiar with that by now. Being the head of Gryffindor house had been troublesome enough; however, being Headmistress was something new altogether. It was hard to try and rebuild Hogwarts, especially because they only had the summer to do it. Many people had suggested that Minerva close the school down for a year, just to make sure it recover to its former glory. She had outright refused. After all, that wasn't what Albus would have done.

But then again, Albus had been one of the most powerful wizards in the world, and had been able to handle being Headmaster with such ease that Minerva couldn't help but wonder what had been in those lemon drops.

So she began to think about it, and Minerva soon realized that it would be impossible to manage everything that she had to in a 24-hour day if she wasted so much time eating in the Great Hall and sleeping.

Everyone wondered how she did it. People were shocked when their children received owls offering them a spot at Hogwarts only three months after the castle had been horribly damaged. They called Minerva a miracle worker, and said that she was proving herself to be one of the best Headmasters Hogwarts had ever had. The pesky Daily Prophet reporters had demanded to know her secret, eager to tell the world of Minerva McGonagall's hidden methods. She had simply shrugged and told them that once you put your mind to it, you could accomplish anything.

Her answer didn't satisfy the reporters, needless to say. But what was she supposed to have done? Told all of England that she, Minerva McGonagall, one of the most respectable witches in the country, had resorted to taking dozens of potions a day just to stay awake and to ignore her hunger pangs as she dashed around the castle? Preposterous! She would be scorned as an idiot, a weak woman who had become addicted to strong potions and pretended that she only drank them to help rebuild the school! None of that was true, and that was precisely why people would so eagerly believe it.

No, she would rather work behind her mysterious front than let loose her biggest secret to hundreds of witches and wizards just because Rita Skeeter's apprentice wanted to get a promotion by publishing the answer to the question that _everyone_ was asking. No pesky reporter would emerge victorious from a conversation with the ex-Head of Gryffindor house, ex-Transformation professor, now Headmistress of the most successful wizarding school in the whole world!

And if they did so happen to find out her secret… Well, Minerva would just have to take a potion to calm herself down and would go about her business.

**OOO**

**That's the end of the kinda short Chapter 12! Did you know that we're now exactly 30% done with the story? Actually, we're 60% done with the first disc, but that doesn't matter to you guys, I guess.**

**I'd like to thank the ever-amazing reviewers, L. Ferreira, keeptheotherone, and My Dear Professor McGonagall! You guys are great!**

**Also, I know that I have more than 20 reviews, but I'd love it if you (my dear anonymous reviewers) wrote a review! It really motivates me when I hear/read/another verb what you guys have to say. **

**Expect one or two chapters to be posted this weekend- the next song is "She's a Rainbow".**

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	13. Harry Potter

**Colors **

**She's a Rainbow**

**Harry Potter**

**OOO**

Harry liked to assign a color to each person he knew. Ron was red, not because of his hair color but because of his personality. When he was angry, he was fiery, and when he was happy, he was very enthusiastic. Hermione was a golden yellow, the color of the pages of the books she read and the happiness that seemed to radiate from her when she learned a new fact. Sirius had been a dark blue, Dumbledore had been a soft and welcoming purple, and Luna was a light silver. Most of the time the colors seemed random until Harry actually took the time to think about why he would choose such a color for that particular person. It just made sense, though. If Harry had to imagine Ron's name in his mind, it was red. Neville Longbottom was dark green; Seamus Finnegan was canary yellow- not to be mistaken with Hermione's golden yellow. Lavender Brown's was tricky, not because he didn't know her too well, but because her first and last names just confused him and her color always ended up being an ugly mess of purple and brown.

In his school days, he hadn't bothered assigning colors to certain people. Slytherins were too unimportant to have specific colors, and Harry had imagined their names to be all the same- black; however, after the war, he reluctantly realized that even they had earned their own colors. Draco Malfoy was now a steely gray, almost the opposite of Luna's happy silver. Goyle was maroon, Zabini was a light brown, almost tan, and Crabbe… well, Crabbe was dead, and Harry felt awkward imagining his name, as it only conjured up negative thoughts, and he didn't want to be mean about the dead. Even if they had been stupid blocks that almost got him killed. Ehem.

There was only one person who didn't get a color, and that was still a mystery to Harry. That person was Ginny Weasley. Actually, it wasn't that she didn't get a color. She got too many colors. Ginny was all the colors, every single one. One minute she was a light orange, and then she would suddenly turn into a fiery red, one angrier and brighter and infinitely more beautiful than Ron's. And she would stay that way, until the next day when Harry met up with her and the other Weasleys at the Burrow and he noticed her dressed in blue. And of course, the blue matched her perfectly, because of course Ginny was a light blue, how had he not realized before? After all, wasn't she like the sky, happy and open and full of light? Halfway into the day, though, Ginny would lean her head back and laugh, and suddenly she was gold, shooting light everywhere as she laughed and smiled.

It had all lead up to this moment, though. Harry had been looking at Ginny without even realizing it, wondering what color in the name of Merlin this girl was, because it was impossible that she wasn't a color. Ginny was important in his life- she was Ron's sister, after all-, so she had to have a color, and constantly changing colors wasn't good enough. Suddenly he realized the truth, though. Ginny Weasley was a rainbow. She shot colors everywhere she went, because she was every color there was.

Harry smiled. She was a rainbow. How perfectly fitting.

**OOO**

**Here's Chapter 13 of ****Aftermath****- I personally had a wonderfully fun time writing this chapter, mostly because I listened to "She's a Rainbow" for the first time and fell in love with it. I hope you liked this chapter, though! **

**My internet is being annoying and not working for a few days, which is one of the reasons why this update was late. The other one was that I had planned to write this chapter a few days ago, but I ended up coming home from my grandma's place later than I thought I would. Also, fun fact of the day, I went to the dentist and got two cavities filled a few hours ago. My tongue and chin and mouth felt ten pounds heavy, each. Not fun.**

**Once again, I'm rambling. Anyway, the next song is the fantastic "Get Off Of My Cloud", and the chapter should be up by Sunday- it's going to be a bit late because my sister leaves to college on Saturday. **

**I'd like to thank the wonderful and amazing and great and other nice-adjective-worthy reviewers, keeptheotherone and My Dear Professor McGonagall.**

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	14. Daphne Greengrass

**Sanctuaries **

**Get Off Of My Cloud**

**Daphne Greengrass**

**OOO**

Some people needed to learn how to stop talking. How was Daphne expected to answer everyone's questions when all the reporters did was talk nonstop? Every time she opened her mouth to answer a question, another reporter would jump in front of her face and demand to know her secret for having such a great complexion. How was she supposed to explain to them that she was just born beautiful? Honestly.

Being Daphne Greengrass was hard work, though, a fact that many people tended to overlook. Sure, she was rich, and sure she was beautiful and wanted by many. That didn't mean that her life was carefree. It was hard being famous! She was the new owner of Witches Weekly, was a dignified pureblood, and was also connected to many Most Ancient and Noble houses, which meant that she had no peace in her life. Astoria had gone and married Draco three months ago, and Daphne herself was currently dating Theo Nott. The same Theo, mind you, who was the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister of Magic and who was a member of Wizengamot.

She was a high profile woman in the Wizarding World; and sure there were good things that came with being famous, like the money, the constant stream of men asking for a date, and the young Slytherin girls who called Daphne their role model. But right now, trying to get home and somehow navigate through the stream of reporters, Daphne was cursing all of the fame she had gained through seven years of hard work. Money was nice to have, but she had enough of it before she started working, anyway. Many of the desperate men who chased after her were stalkers, and most weren't nearly attractive enough for her to even consider. And just because young Slytherin girls thought Daphne was wonderful, it didn't really mean anything. It just meant that they were obsessive little creeps. Merlin knew that Daphne had never had a role model when she was in school. She had been her own role model. That way, her dreams weren't crushed when her supposed role model ended up dead in an alleyway or was found to be a lying hypocrite who had never once done anything important in their life.

Daphne looked around and sighed. It was already getting late, and if she wanted to go out with Astoria and Millicent, she was going to have to find a way to escape these bloody reporters. She took a deep breath to calm down, before muttering a quiet "confundus". The change was visible. Suddenly, the reporters' eyes grew hazy, and a few wandered off, muttering something about having to go visit their mothers, and the other ones just stood in place for a few minutes, staring at their quills in confusion. Daphne smirked before quickly apparating back home, wondering why she hadn't cast the charm on them before.

It was a relief to see that nobody else was home, visiting her or shoving a few articles at her that she had forgotten to look at. It wouldn't do for guests to see such a prestigious woman flop down on her bed, her face buried in her pillow as she sighed happily. It also wouldn't do for anyone to see her, Daphne Greengrass, ask her house elf for one of those sodas that Pansy had introduced to her two years ago. Merlin knew that the last thing she needed was an article all over the papers, showing a photo of her, _Daphne Greengrass_, drinking a low-class, high in sugar, and, worst of all, _muggle_ drink. No, it was good that she was alone at home right now.

Her room was her only escape, now thinking about it. The light blue ceiling looked something like the sky, and when she squinted she could pretend that she was laying in a field of grass, staring at the sky, having a break before she was pushed back into her busy world. No reporters, no pesky coworkers, no annoying yet loved family members. No, this was her sanctuary, the only place where Daphne Greengrass was nothing more than a young woman taking a few minutes to relax; and it would continue to be her sanctuary until reporters learned what the phrase "bugger off" meant.

**OOO**

**And that's Chapter 14 of ****Aftermath****! Yes, I know I posted this a day later than I said I would, but I spent all of the weekend with my parents, dropping my sister off at college, and then I spent yesterday being a lazy bum- as in, doing what I do almost every day of summer. **

**I hope you guys liked this chapter. I had fun writing for Daphne, because we don't really know that much about her, so I had more liberties when imagining her character. I know that I gave a bunch of the Slytherins good jobs and whatnot, but I figured that being ambitious and cunning tend to help you do better in the world, right? Right. I think. Possibly. **

**The next song is "Wild Horses", which is quite possibly one of the most amazing songs ever. I know the character will be, so expect the next update to be on Thursday or Friday. **

**I'd like to thank my amazing reviewers, keeptheotherone and My Dear Professor McGonagall. You guys are great!**

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	15. Helen Diggory

**Forgetting**

**Wild Horses**

**Mrs. Diggory**

**OOO**

She tried to forget about it all. She would run to the bathroom, wash the tears off her face, and flip all of the picture frames down, trying in vain to forget that she had ever had a son. It never worked.

Helen Diggory thought about Cedric often. It sounded silly to say, she realized, because what mother didn't think about her dead son? But every day, just when she thought she was healing, Ceddie's face would come into her mind, filling her thoughts, suffocating her. The only thing that calmed her down was taking a potion and falling into a dreamless sleep. That was the only way she fell asleep now, really. Dreams were just as bad as being awake, if not worse. In the daytime, Helen could at least try to occupy herself with some menial task in order to ignore the tears that were leaking through her tightly closed eyelids. The nighttime, though, the nighttime was horrible. Hour after hour of reliving happy memories of her little boy, hour after hour of reliving the sight of his dead body, hour after hour of her boy, her little Ceddie, asking his mother why he had to die.

Amos was no help. What help was a man who turned to alcohol to drown his sorrows, a man who came home some nights with lipstick prints on his collar as he stumbled through the hallway? Seeing Amos only reminded Helen that her family was in shambles. Her son was dead, _dead_, and her husband was too busy drinking and fooling around with mere prostitutes to notice that in a few months, there would be no money left in the Diggory Gringotts vault.

No, Helen Diggory was alone.

Ceddie had had an easy, delightful childhood, from what she remembered. He was always laughing, running up to his mother to show her the flowers he picked for her. He delighted in making friends, was never without a smile, and could never fall asleep without a goodnight kiss from his mother. But life as a child was always easier, especially when your parents loved you too much to deny any of your requests. Helen had gotten Ceddie everything he wanted; she would admit to spoiling him quite a bit. But somehow, he had grown up to be selfless and brave and wonderful and _dead_.

They had fought, her and Ceddie, the summer before he left. It had been rather stupid, and the fight had lasted for two weeks and only ended when he turned to her before boarding the Hogwarts Express, arms stretched out for a hug and a wide smile on his face. They had forgiven each other, and Helen had almost wept with happiness. She could never be angry at him, not at her little boy. All of their fights were really just the effect of misunderstandings and hurt pride. That was all. No matter how rude Ceddie was to her- and he was never rude, never- no matter how much he ignored her some days or how moody he would get, Helen could never even muster up the slightest feelings of bitterness. After all, who could dislike such a wonderful boy as her son?

Sometimes she thought this was all punishment. All of this hurt, all of this pointless anger and all of these bitter tears were just her feeling the pain that Ceddie had felt. The young Potter boy had said that Cedric had died without feeling a thing, a peaceful death, but Helen found it impossible. How could he have died happily? No, there must have been terrible fear in his final moments, or at least sadness, and now she was feeling a fraction of that pain.

By now Helen knew that she would never forget her boy. It was impossible to forget someone so wonderful, so dear to her. It was just as well, though; because nothing could make her want to forget all of those wonderful times she spent with him. Nothing could make her want to forget Cedric Diggory.

**OOO**

**And that was chapter 15 of ****Aftermath****! I know I haven't updated in a while, but stupid Hurricane Irene is a bum. That is all I am going to say on that matter, other than my apologies for being so late. I'm updating late in the evening, by the way, because I only just wrote this, and I'm posting as quickly as possible.**

**I hope you all liked this chapter, even though it was shorter and on a really minor character. When I looked up the meaning to "Wild Horses" (I always look up the meaning of the song before I write), I saw that it had originally been written by the amazing Keith Richards for his young son, because he felt bad about leaving him behind when he went on tour. For some reason, I thought about Mrs. Diggory and Cedric, and so I wrote this one-shot. **

**I'd like to thank my amazing reviewers, keeptheotherone, My Dear Professor McGonagall, and the NEW REVIEWER *cheers* mewkazurinu2004, who, coincidentally, also wrote the thirtieth review this story has received.**

**By the way, I don't want to whine, but this story has almost 730 hits, and 6 alerts, but only a few people review, and I'm sounding spoiled so I'll stop.**

**Ignore that.**

**The next song is "Ruby Tuesday", and I'm really excited for that one! It'll be fun. Even though I hated that song for half of my life… For no real reason.**

**I'll try to update tomorrow!**

**Until then!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	16. Rolf Scamander

**Faltering**

**Ruby Tuesday**

**Rolf Scamander**

**OOO**

Rolf had lost Luna the day he realized he loved her. It sounded stupid and pathetic, as if he was moaning after someone he could never have. Well, he was, but that wasn't the point? The point was… Well, there was no point other than the fact that Rolf had fallen in love with a woman who was insane and had no idea of what the word 'reality' actually meant, a woman who preferred chasing imaginary creatures to gossiping. A woman, who, in his humble opinion, was absolutely perfect.

But it was too late to think all of those things now. Luna was gone, and Rolf had no idea if she planed on returning to England. She had decided to venture to South America, documenting all of the wonderful and possibly not even real magical creatures she could find.

She had brought up the trip a week ago while eating dinner with Rolf and his grandparents. It had been a friendly lunch, and Rolf's grandfather had been boasting of his experience with magical creatures, as he tended to do, when Luna suddenly cleared her throat. It was a quiet sound, but it managed to get the attention of the three other people in the room. Once she realized everyone was listening, Luna quietly voiced her wish to go to South America for three months to look for Wrackspurts and Nargles. She had then turned to face Rolf, asking if he would like to come with her. And just when he was about to say that he would most certainly want to go with her, that he would go with her anywhere, his grandfather had started to laugh and tell his grandson's girlfriend that Rolf was a Scamander, and he was much to knowledgeable about magical creatures to go chasing after some creatures that that loon, Xenophilius, had imagined up. Luna hadn't moved, still looking at Rolf with those big silvery eyes, patiently waiting for his answer. He had opened his mouth, about to answer in the affirmative, when he had happened to see his grandfather and grandmother's disapproving faces out of the corner of his eyes.

He faltered, and mumbled out a quick 'maybe'. Luna had stared for another second before standing up, pushing in her chair and saying that as nice as it was to have been invited to eat lunch with the Scamanders, she had no further desire to stay and eat with this family.

And then she was gone.

When Rolf excused himself ten minutes later and apparated to Luna's flat, he saw that she was gone, along with half of her clothes and all of her handmade jewelry. There had been a moment of shock before he sunk to the floor, running a hand through his hair as he wondered how stupid a man had to be to lose such a wonderful woman. And it was all because he had faltered.

Half an hour later, he stood up and noticed a piece of parchment that had a few sentences jotted down in Luna's loopy handwriting.

_Dear Rolf,_

_I decided that there was no harm in leaving early, since I had all of my trunks packed already. I'm sorry if you're angry at me, but I don't see any reason why you would be, since I did nothing wrong. All I'm doing is following my dreams, a concept that you never really understood because you were too busy doing whatever your grandfather told you to do. If I lose my dreams, Rolf, I think I'll lose my mind. And I intend to catch my dreams before they slip away; I don't want to lose any time in doing that._

_I love you,_

_Luna._

He reread the note three more times before quickly apparating to his flat. It was typical of Luna, really, and he shouldn't have been so surprised to find that she had left. She was never the type to be chained down to one place. No, she was a free spirit, a girl with no boundaries simply because she saw no other way to live.

Merlin, it had been a week and Rolf already was half mad, pining after Luna because he was terribly in love with her. It was pathetic, and unmanly, but what was a boy to do?

He missed her.

**OOO**

**There's chapter 16 of ****Aftermath****! See, I updated quickly! I think you should all thank me by sending me a cake because I'm hungry for no reason.**

**I don't know if I like this one or hate it. The song "Ruby Tuesday" just fit Luna so well, and I'd never written for Rolf before, so I thought it would be fun. And I figured their relationship would have been difficult, even if they ended up married with twins.**

**Also, if you noticed, I kinda took the liberty of inserting practically half the lyrics of the song into this one-shot, because I felt like it. So there. **

**I'd like to thank my wonderful reviewers, My Dear Professor McGonagall, keeptheotherone, and the kinda really awesome skaterofthebooks, who is a new reviewer. You guys encouraged me to update quickly, so I'd like to thank you.**

**The next song is "Paint It Black" (whoo!), and if I don't update tomorrow that means I'll update on Monday or Tuesday. You see, I'm leaving on Friday and returning on Sunday for an orientation where I was chosen to help welcome new students to my school and whatnot. Because I'm a cool cat. And I'm rambling and using strange phrases to describe myself. I'll stop.**

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	17. Moaning Myrtle

**Misery**

**Paint It Black**

**Moaning Myrtle**

**OOO**

Being a ghost was extremely tiring. Moaning Myrtle would know, wouldn't she? After all, no other human had to go through the agony she did. Every day, she had to face the sneers of pathetic Hogwarts students as they denied her advances, had to see students throw their books at her just to see if they went through her, ha to remember all of the taunting and teasing of that horrible Olive Hornby.

Now that the war was over, Hogwarts had been repaired, and most of the toilets actually worked now. It was a shame that they hadn't changed the color of the walls, though. Everything looked so peaceful and cheery, and it was disgusting. Myrtle had to suffer every day of her afterlife, and she did not want people to be so happy. Why should they be cheerful, anyway? They were all horrible people, all of them. Well, except for the occasional good-looking prefect… Those boys were quite alright. But the girls! They were horrible! They all wore their uniforms as short as possible and always wore the brightest and tackiest clothes when they went to Hogsmeade. As if there was something appealing when girls showed off their good figures and attracted attention with colorful clothes. Everyone knew that the best kind of boy liked a pale girl with glasses. Right? Right.

But it was even worse when the girls wore dark and solemn clothes. It reminded Myrtle of that dreaded Olive Hornby, and of all the dark times Myrtle had gone through. It was as if they were trying to make her remember the hard times she had to go through during the war! She had had to float around and watch people be killed, all the while knowing that she herself could not be killed because she was already _dead_! How horrible and revolting it had been. People were dying, and nobody had paid attention to her, all because they were too busy mourning the dead.

It wasn't like anyone had mourned _Myrtle_ when she had died. They had all probably laughed, like the fools they were. Besides, mourning was too depressing anyway, what with everyone wearing black. It reminded of her pain. It was hard being dead, it was hard and painful and nobody appreciated her anymore!

Myrtle fainted sometimes. Nobody believed her when she told them, and when she did faint they all thought she was fainting. It was as if students thought that she, Myrtle, was an attention-seeker! Ridiculous. But she really did faint, and it was horrible when she woke up, because she remembered that she was dead and it hadn't all been a horrible dream. But what was even worse about the whole ordeal was the few seconds before she fainted, when everything turned darker and darker until all she saw was black. All around her it was dark, and there was no light, only an overwhelming sense of darkness and horror. It was as if the sun had been blotted out from the sky and the bathrooms had been painted black, and everything was just covered in a layer of darkness. Those were the times that Myrtle thought that perhaps it was better to leave the bathrooms as they were, peaceful and cheerful, as opposed to painted black.

She was quite aware of the fact that many people hated her. They were all idiots anyway, but it still hurt a little bit in her anguished soul when she saw people turn their heads and quickly look away; it was made even worse by the fact that this happened every day. They all thought she was whiny, and had even dared to name her Moaning Myrtle. So what if she got upset sometimes? Nobody understood her pain anyway, so they had no right in being rude. It wasn't easy being optimistic when her whole world was black. Maybe one day, she would just fade away and no longer be alive or dead or anything really at all. But she had a feeling they would all be happy.

Because no one would miss her, in the end. The fools.

**OOO**

**There's Chapter 17 of ****Aftermath****! We're almost halfway there!**

**I won't update for a few days, since I'm leaving tomorrow and won't return until Monday, but I'll try to update quickly when I come home. **

**This one was hard to write, because I love Paint It Black but hate Moaning Myrtle, so I tried to be as whiny and hipster-angsty as possible. I'd love to hear your thoughts in a review, though!**

**I'd like to thank keeptheotherone, My Dear Professor McGonagall, and DragonWand for reviewing and being amazing in general.**

**I hope I didn't annoy you all with the whining of our dearest Myrtle. The next song is "Honky Tonk Women" which will be amazing to write. It makes me wish that I hadn't written for Draco yet… I mean, c'mon. This song is perfect for fanfiction!Draco. Anyway… I'll stop rambling.**

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	18. Seamus Finnigan

**Hotel Rooms**

**Honky Tonk Women**

**Seamus Finnigan**

**OOO**

Who would have thought that he, Seamus Finnigan, would one day be raking in girls left and right? It didn't matter how it happened, though. He was just trying to enjoy it while it lasted.

Only two years after what would have been his seventh year, Seamus decided to go travel around the world. He was beginning to tire of cloudy London, and a change of scenery would be nice. So he packed his bags, and after saying goodbye to Dean and Lavender, he was gone.

Strangely enough, the first place Seamus went was Tennessee. Memphis, to be precise. It hadn't really been planned, but Memphis had been the first place he thought of before apparating away. He had been there once, when he had been five years old. His father had brought him there, showing him all the famous landmarks. Seamus hadn't really cared at the time, and had been more interested in his brand new toy broom. His father had listed out all the musicians who had been born in Memphis, paying special attention to his own favorite, Elvis Presley. Seamus hadn't cared in the least. Quidditch was much more excited than some stupid muggle musician.

But here he was now, sitting in a bar in Memphis, getting away from the boredom of being something of a war hero in a recovering wizard world. Memphis was happy, and exciting, and no one in this bar had tapped his shoulder and asked for an autograph. Instead, several girls in particularly revealing costumes had walked over and asked him his name and if he would be in town for a while. His alcohol-addled brain wasn't too sure what was going on, but he would figure it all out in the morning, when he woke up practically naked in a hotel room across from the bar, eyes resting on an unfamiliar girl dressing up while taking out money from his pant pockets. The same pants that were thrown across the unfamiliar room, right next to his white shirt that now had bright red lipstick stains all down the front.

It only took that one incident to make him leave Memphis and head straight for New York City. Seamus figured that it wouldn't do to get completely drunk and spend lots of money on a night he barely remembered, so he spend a few days touring the city. He visited museums, parks, landmarks, and decided to spend his last evening in the city in a nice and quiet café. He met a pretty and intelligent girl there, and decided he wanted to get to know her.

The next morning, he left the girl alone in his hotel room before leaving to return to Europe.

Maybe America wasn't the right place for him to go for a quiet, relaxed trip. Perhaps France would be better.

**OOO**

** And there's Chapter 18 of ****Aftermath****! I'll be honest with you, I don't like this one at all. I feel like it's rushed and too short and about nothing at all. But I couldn't write anything on Monday because I was tired from my trip, and Tuesday my computer broke. I only got it to work today, and this was the only one-shot I could write. **

** I'd like to thank my amazing reviewers, PureAwesomeness13, keeptheotherone, mewkazurinu2004, My Dear Professor McGonagall, and skaterofthebooks. This is the most reviews I've ever gotten for a chapter, and I have 43 reviews so far in general! I'd love to see if I could hit 50 reviews by chapter 20. In return, I'll write better chapters than this!**

**I'll try to update on Friday, because tomorrow's my first day of school, and I probably won't write anything. The next song will be "It's All Over Now".**

**Until next time!  
>Sincerely,<strong>

**ItsOnMars :)**


	19. Dudley Dursley

**Shock**

**It's All Over Now**

**Dudley Dursley**

**OOO**

Dudley Dursley had thought himself lucky when he managed to get a girlfriend for the first time in his life. He was perfectly aware that he resembled a pig, both in size and shape. He was lacking in manners, that was for sure; and he wouldn't hesitate to admit that he wasn't exactly the smartest person in England. But Dudley had somehow managed to find the perfect woman, the only woman who he would ever need in his life.

She was funny and sweet and kind and pretty and so much more than he deserved. Half the time Dudley would swear that she wasn't real, because there was no way that a man like him would have managed to get this wonderful woman to even look at him twice.

But she did. And now he had to let her go. He had to let Samantha go because he really didn't see any other alternative. How else was he supposed to react when she confided to him on their one-year anniversary that she was a witch?

A witch! She was one of those horrid creatures, just like his awful cousin. Well, Harry wasn't awful at all; in fact, he was nice to Dudley and his parents, extremely nice considering that the three of them had made his first eleven years hell. But that was beside the point. Samantha had lied to him for a year, a whole year, hiding the one thing that would make him willingly break up with her.

She was a witch. And she had quietly told him, looking hopefully into his eyes, as if he would willingly accept that and their relationship would continue peacefully as if nothing had happened. But that wasn't the case. Dudley had sat up as quickly as possible, a look of terror in his eyes as he started to pace around the room, yelling and turning so red he would have made his late father proud. He had cursed and yelled and practically had a heart attack right then. After a few minutes of this, he had stopped, waited until his breathing and skin color returned back to normal before calmly and quietly told Samantha to leave his flat immediately. She had looked hurt and confused, but he had repeated it again, his tone menacing and cruel. A second later, with the pop of her magical teleportation, she was gone.

Dudley had thought he loved her; but that was all over now.

**OOO**

**And there's the very, very, **_**very**_** late chapter 19 of ****Aftermath****! I know that I promised this chapter more than a week ago, but I forgot how different school and summer schedules are. I didn't have time to write on the weekdays, and the weekends were filled with me catching up on sleep and doing homework.**

**Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter. I know that last chapter wasn't my best, and this one isn't so long either, but I think it wasn't that bad. Right? RIGHT?**

** I'd like to thank these spectacular users for reviewing: Kjc13, PureAwesomeness13, mewkazurinu2004, keeptheotherone, My Dear Professor McGonagall, and skaterofthebooks. You guys keep me writing, and again, I apologize for being late in updating.**

**The next song is "Let's Spend The Night Together" *snicker*, and I'll try to update tomorrow. Seriously, I mean it. I hope.**

**In general, though, updates will be slower than they were before. I'll try to update twice a week, but it'll probably result in my writing two chapters on the weekends and not updating until the next weekend. **

**So there you have it! Oh, and I'd like to thank you all for making me reach 49 reviews. This is the largest amount of reviews I've ever gotten, so thank you all!**

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


	20. Ginny Weasley

**Annoyance**

**Let's Spend The Night Together**

**Ginny Weasley**

**OOO**

Ginny Weasley was quite familiar with the idea of having a large family. She had six- five, not six- brothers, and all of them were quite loud. Well, Percy wasn't loud, but he was annoying in his own way.

She grew used to it, though. Having a large family was fun most of the times, because what could be better than having six- five brothers, all who were always willing to beat up any boy who broke her heart? Well, Percy didn't fit into that category again, but she liked to ignore that fact.

But as much as she loved her brothers and their protectiveness, they sometimes went too far. Like tonight, for instance.

Harry had stayed over at the Burrow dozens of times, so it didn't really matter that this was the first night he was staying as Ginny's official boyfriend. It didn't mean that every one of her brothers had to personally threaten the poor man before going to bed, spending five minutes happily describing what would happen if he even thought about going into Ginny's room. Merlin, even Percy had given a speech, pompously declaring that he had contacts in the Ministry who could make like the Boy-Who-Lived's death an accident.

And what was the most ridiculous part of it all? Harry James Potter had not, for one moment, considered that he was one of the most powerful and loved wizards in the world and didn't have to take this sort of thing. Instead, he dutifully nodded and tried to reassure his girlfriend's eerily grinning brothers that all he planned to do that night was sleep. In his own bed. With his wand at ready in case the Weasleys decided to carry out their thinly veiled threats.

After hearing his earnest protests, her brothers started to slowly back off, returning back to their normal cheerful (or smug, in Percy's case) personalities; and of course, Harry smiled right back and didn't for one second consider how disturbing that whole conversation had been. But Ginny wasn't going to ignore the fact that practically her whole family had threatened to kill the boy she was pretty sure she loved. What was going to happen when the couple moved in together, or got married, or when she got pregnant? But maybe Ginny was getting ahead of herself. After all, they had only been going out officially for one month, unofficially for three.

The tabloids had had a field day, now that she remembered. There had been a week where she hadn't been able to walk on the streets without being asked about her "steamy romance" with "dashing war hero and savior-of-the-world Harry Potter". It had only been a few days after that when they started asking Ginny if she was really pregnant with Dean Thomas's child. She had smiled and replied that it was actually Viktor Krum's before apparating away.

Harry hadn't taken the article that followed as well as she had hoped he would.

Yet here he was, reacting calmly after having his life threatened by si- five grown men, all of who were quite serious! Yes, he was Harry Potter, and was probably used to hearing predictions of his death, but that didn't mean he had to be so polite to her brothers! Someone needed to yell at them, and the man had left her no alternative.

Ginny Weasley was going to have to yell at her brothers tonight. Oh, and she would have to scold Harry as well. After all, the man had to learn how to be assertive.

**OOO**

**And there you have it! Chapter Twenty of ****Aftermath****! Yes, readers, we're halfway there. Strange, isn't it? I feel like I've been writing this for ages, but then again, it's kind of sad to know that I've reached the halfway point.**

**I actually quite enjoyed writing this one-shot, even thought it turned out differently than I thought it would. I'd love to hear your thoughts!**

**On the subject of reviews…. Wow. You guys are really truly amazing. I now have 65 reviews, and I'd like to thank all of you for reviewing: L. Ferreira, My Dear Professor McGonagall, mewkazurino2004, ermireallydontacare, PureAwesomeness13, Qasim the amazing anonymous reviewer (thanks!), skaterofthebooks, Kjc13, and keeptheotherone. You lot keep me writing, so I'm pretty sure that's a good thing.**

**The next song is "Start Me Up" as we've already moved on to disk 2 of Forty Licks. I'm going away this weekend, but I'll try to update on Sunday. If not, expect an update on Monday sometime in the evening.**

**Thank you all so much again! **

**Until next time!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**

**New A/N (Pretty Important...): So I've decided that instead of 40 chapters, I'm leaving this at 20 chapters, because I don't think that I'll really be updating that frequently, and I can't really think of that many ideas of one-shots anymore... So even though this might sound like I'm discontinuing this story, I don't really think of it like that. Instead, I think of it as coming to a close normally, but just being half the size I originally expected it would be. I haven't updated in so long and it wouldn't be fair of me to keep this story incomplete as the weeks went by without me updating at all.**

**I hope you guys understand, and that my incoherent rambling and excuses make sense.**

**You guys have been the most amazing readers and reviewers ever! I will get back to writing fanfiction eventually, once I figure out how to balance my schedule so that I'm not toiling over homework and projects and tests for every waking hour that I'm not in school. When I do put up new stuff, I'd love for you all to go and maybe check it out, or leave a review if you want.**

**Again, thank you all so much!**

**Sincerely,**

**ItsOnMars :)**


End file.
